Pristine Sistine
by lizteroid
Summary: Sister Mary Eunice finally convinced the Monsignor to take her to Rome, and she jumped onto Judy's dream of marriage and the Vatican. Oneshot, though I MAY continue. Rated M for themes.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note:_ **This is based loosely upon an idea a friend and I formed whilst watching the scene between Eunice and the Monsignor when she's packing away Sister Jude's belongings to be donated to charity, and she tells the Monsignor she'd help him get to Rome, via any means possible/necessary. Will more than likely just be a oneshot.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.

* * *

They had eloped, leaving Briarcliff to the dogs. The patients were all now in Dr. Arthur Arden's capable hands. Sister Mary Eunice had made the decision to join Monsignor Timothy Howard, it had been Judy's idea. For them to get married. Judy and the Monsignor, that is, but Mary Eunice had jumped at the chance to be with Timothy whenever she could be, marriage seemed like the appropriate way to get what she wanted. And, Rome was just a bonus.

They had been there, in Rome for several weeks now, and Mary Eunice had received numerous letters from Arthur, begging her for forgiveness, and asking her to _'come home'_. Timothy had been meeting with other Monsignors, Cardinals, he was finding his way within the Church, and around Rome. They both were.

Mary had been shopping, she'd bought herself new clothes for the first time in five years. She had spent five years married to God, for many months of her final year, she and Timothy had been dancing around each other; both wanted the other, but had their obligations within the Church. It had been Mary Eunice who had decided she would abdicate and renounce her vows, several of which had been broken already. She knew how much the Church meant to Timothy, but now he had her also. It was a sacrifice she had made for the both of them.

She had been at their new _home_, the Hotel Nespolo D'Oro, and changed after a leisurely trip and spending. Mary, or as the gentle hotel porter called her, Maria changed into one of the new dresses she had bought, deciding to surprise Timothy at the _Cappella Sistina. _She smiled as she pinned the oversided hat to her golden hair, the brim casting a soft shadow over her covered shoulders. The dress was certainly form fitting, clutching at her slender figure in all the right places. She certainly fit in, in Rome with her newly adopted fashion sense.

Collecting her sunglasses and her clutch purse, Mary left the room and headed downstairs to the lobby, where the porter nodded appreciatively, "Bella, bella..." he smiled to her, a wide, toothy grin, "Very beautiful..." he then added in his thick, Italian accent. It was very musical.

Mary gave a nod and returned the smile to him, Carlito was his name. Donning the sunglasses, she stepped out into the warm afternoon heat. Humid and sticky, even for early May. She tried to walk under the parasols and urnings as she passed storefronts and cafes. Before long, she reached the Sistine Chapel, noting how glorious it truly was in reality. Its grandeur and scale. Many of the Cardinals and other Monsignors were bustling outside, enjoying cool glasses of water, or lemonade. She nodded to them as she passed by, looking for Timothy.

Entering the Chapel, Mary removed her sunglasses and her hat, before gingerly dipping her fingers into the small font of water beside the door, smearing it across her forehead and lips, allowing its coolness to soak into her skin. Truly appreciative of its purpose. Cleansing her. She made her way further inside the Chapel, her stilettos clacking on the marbled floor, with each step. It was then, she saw him.

Allowing a delicate smile to form across her Cupid's bow lips, Mary Eunice softened her step, as she neared Timothy. He was on his knees, rosary in hand as he prayed. Muttering words of Christ and Father, Holy Spirits and body, and bread. When he paused, she cleared her throat gently, standing directly behind him now. She awaited him turning around, holding her hat and sunglasses in her hands which were clasped at her front.

He took one look at her and gaped. Timothy's mouth hung open as he drank in the sight of her; the fitted dress, elegant and sophisticated, it made her look a little older than her 24 years. Timothy saw her delicate smile, he had grown accustomed to it now, after the debacle that had been her possession back at Briarcliff. As soon as they had left that Godforsaken place, the Devil had ensued to find another host to inhabit, and the Sister Mary Eunice he had original acquainted himself with had returned. Pure and simple.

Now, she stood somewhat coquettishly, shy though. She possessed a girlish charm, it was irresistibile to Timothy. Standing from his position, he nodded to her, offering out his hand in a gesture for her to near him. He wanted to break that purity she carried. In all honesty, he missed her Satanic ways, her somewhat innocent slutting. Shaking his head, yet smiling, he spoke up, "You look radiant, my dear." he told her, complimenting her and earning a blush in return.

"Timothy..." she responded, turning her head slightly to the side and down, her chin resting against her shoulder gently as she allowed her eyes to become heavy. She could feel her cheeks flushing, the heat rising, truly a blushing bride. When she felt him gripping her hand, Mary turned her eyes to her new husband, glancing curiously at him before she saw his expression.

In a flash, Timothy's mouth was on hers, his hands groping and squeezing and stroking. She gladly reciprocated, after slight deliberation. Were they alone? Of course, God was watching them, but at that moment, neither of them cared much. Mary wrapped her arms around him, her hat flapped against his back as her sunglasses clattered to the floor, echoing around the walls.

As the two heard the clattering of her sunglasses, Timothy broke the passionate kiss, only to swoop in for a second, more demanding kiss. Assaulting her mouth with his, teeth and tongue alike. His strong, stern body pressed against hers, pushing her, leading her to the floor with his mouth. His arms wrapped around her body, hands went wandering up the skirt of her dress, finding stockings and garters before he unhooked the clips and pulled down her panties, kneeling with her on that welcomed chilled floor, the assault upon her mouth continued.

Mary moaned slightly, Timothy didn't know nor did he care if it had been in protest. Ever since the evening she'd convinced him to break one of his vows, something had been awakened in him, and now his body was telling him to act upon those awakenings. He hadn't touched her then, his hands had been encased in bandage and he had shied away from contact with her body, but now, his hands spread like wildfire over her body, moving over her breasts and feeling her nipples peaking. Her reaction caused Timothy to tug at the neckline of her dress, as he lay her down on her back.

Gazing up at Timothy, Mary had her lips parted and her brows raised as she awaited his next move; he pulled at the simple bra she was wearing, tugging the cup down with her dress, exposing the delicate skin of her breast and nipple, goose-pimpled with excitement. Timothy's lips were on hers again as she shivered between he and the floor. As he pulled back again, she heard his zipper before he pushed up the skirt of her dress.

Mary moved her hands to his face, attempting to pull him in for a kiss but he grabbed at her wrists, moving and pinning them above her head under one of his hands. With his free hand, he pulled her panties down her legs before he pushed himself into her, a raw and somewhat strangled cry erupted from her throat. That beloved warm, wet hug greeted him once again and he had to take a moment. When he calmed himself, he began to thrust into her, sending her body jerking upwards with each push.

To begin with, Timothy's thrusts were jerky, he hadn't found a rhythm, but as soon as he gripped onto Mary's hip, he was sure to find a steady pacing. Her left leg was bent at the knee, the heel of her black stiletto pressing into the marble beneath her, her right leg however snaked its way around Timothy's body, her foot pressed harshly against his buttocks to push him further inside her.

Their coupling was fierce, frenzied. Their cries echoed around the room, bouncing from walls, to ceiling, to floor. Timothy was in it for his pleasure alone. Since arriving in Rome, the two had not made love and he had been climbing the walls day and night, after all, he was a red blooded man whom needed release. He was concentrating on the pressure building inside him, the sensations he was feeling. Just. A little. More...

His face screwed in ecstasy as he reached his climax, thrusting through it as he continued to grip at Mary's hip, she knew there would be bruises there later on. Through his cracked eyelids, Timothy looked to Mary as he slowed, her eyes were squeezed shut, and she had not cried out, his job would be completed later back at their hotel. Swiftly, he pulled out and away from her, kneeling as he zipped his trousers and looked over her; dishevelled, far from the beauty she had been when she had entered the chapel. Her elegant up-do was now frizzy, tendrils spiralled in all directions as she lay splayed and exposed on the floor, panting and beginning to shiver.

Timothy smirked before he leaned down to peck her lips, as if to wake her from her frenzied slumber, "I must meet with the other Monsignor's. They are all extremely cut throat at the Vatican, I want to be able to have my cake and eat it." he told her, "I'll be home for dinner..." and with that, he stood, leaving her there.

It took her mere seconds to understand what had happened. Parting her lips and closing them, like a fish gasping for breath, she sat up and looked down at herself. Immediately, she pulled up the cup of her bra and her dress before watching Timothy disappear off into a side room, his swagger was so imminent, she could have cursed, but instead, she compiled herself and regained her prior appearance, standing once she was finished and she looked around, only now noticing how empty the chapel was, how pristine it looked. A few seconds passed in silence before she left, clacking along once again, heading back to the hotel to prepare Timothy's favorite.

**Fin.**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Note:_ **This is based loosely upon an idea a friend and I formed whilst watching the scene between Eunice and the Monsignor when she's packing away Sister Jude's belongings to be donated to charity, and she tells the Monsignor she'd help him get to Rome, via any means possible/necessary. So, I said it would more than likely be a oneshot...I lied. Back by popular demand, and due to Nisscar pressure - ladies and gentleman, I give you Chapter Two.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.

* * *

Mary awoke smiling, but to cold sheets. She could hear that Timothy was in the shower, he was readying himself for the sermon at the Vatican which she had agreed to attend with him. She rolled over, resting on her back as she looked out, the sun was already streaming through the voiles that hung on the window. Sunday was always such a beautiful day in Rome.

The water shut off and a few moments later, Timothy emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and patting down his hair before he moved to the bedside and leaned down, placing a kiss on her cheek, "I didn't know you'd woken up." he gave a gentle nod, "I would have left on the water for you."

She leaned up now, moving her hands either side of his face, puling him in for a tender kiss as the sun burst through the voiles, alighting her golden tresses. Pulling back from the kiss, Mary stroked over his cheek with her thumb, smiling at the sight of her wedding band on her finger. It still was a new concept for her, to not be married to God, but to the man she had found through God, and her work.

"It's quite all right." she told him, "Good morning..." she beamed sunnily before she peeled back the covers and swung her legs around to leave the bed, "I shan't take long, perhaps we can have breakfast at that adorable patisserie we passed last week...?" she suggested, peeking around the doorframe of the bathroom as she removed her nightdress.

Mary showered in record timing, leaving the bathroom in the shortest towel imaginable. Her hair was damp but already drying as she moved to the dresser to choose her undergarments and finally her dress, a white summer dress. Timothy, who was already dressed now, sat on the bed, watching as Mary slipped on the white girdle, the clips hung down, ready to be secured to stockings. He furrowed his brows as he appreciated her body, the curves, dips. She was Heavenly.

As she began rolling on her stockings, sheer, fleshy stockings, Timothy stood and moved over to her, behind her. He grazed his hand over her hip, caressing her there before he allowed his hand to trail up her abdomen, towards her breasts. She shrugged his hand off after clipping her stockings, "Timothy..." she gave a gentle, girlish giggle, "We'll be late..." she smiled over her shoulder to him.

"We can go to evening service." he announced, leaning in to kiss her shoulder, her pale skin was calling to him.

"No..." Mary turned to him, placing her hands upon his shoulders as she looked into his hazel eyes, "You wanted to go to morning mass, so we will be going to morning mass." she smiled, placing a chaste kiss upon his lips, before she turned and continued to dress herself.

After some protesting from Timothy, the couple finally left their suite, had breakfast to go and strolled to the Vatican to sit through the sermon there. Timothy greeted some of the other Monsignors and some of the families of Rome before he allowed Mary to link with him and enter the Chapel. She watched how animated he was around the other Brothers of God, and it made her smile as she took her seat in the pew beside him.

Mass began with a hymn, one of Mary's favorites. She smiled to Timothy as they stood and opened their hymn books. She noticed his smile seemed pre-occupied and she frowned questioningly to him, receiving a shake of his head as a response. When the hymn was over, the congregation sat and Mary placed their books onto the shelf before them. As she leaned back, she felt Timothy's hand on her knee, she flicked her eyes down before glancing sideways to him.

As the sermon wore on, after standing, and sitting and kneeling, Timothy's gradually found its way up Mary's dress, skitting over stockings and panties before resting there. He allowed his thumb to graze over her, causing her to shift on the pew, trying her best to remain focused on the mass. Turning her focus briefly to Timothy, she glared at him before turning back to the pulpit and altar.

It was when Timothy allowed his fingers to glide along her folds, that she sputtered, trying to cloak the moan she had so obviously allowed to escape. He ceased momentarily before continuing, whipping her into a frenzy only to stop his motions, allowing her to calm. They were in the house of God, after all. Soon, however, he had her squirming in her seat, her cheeks were flushed, and he had yet to slide his fingers inside her but she knew it was going to happen soon. Or, at least she hoped, or not.

Mary had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep herself from crying out, as eventually Timothy did slip fingers inside her. He chose the worst possible moments to ensue sexual pleasure. She attempted to cross her legs over the other, to pull his hand further into her but he prevailed her and grazed his thumb over her thigh instead. She was close. Timothy could feel it, and so, he stopped his motions once more, pulling his hand away from her, leaving Mary frustrated and hanging for the second time in one week.

To Timothy though, it just meant more fun was to be had later on.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's Note:_ **This is based loosely upon an idea a friend and I formed whilst watching the scene between Eunice and the Monsignor when she's packing away Sister Jude's belongings to be donated to charity, and she tells the Monsignor she'd help him get to Rome, via any means possible/necessary. So, I said it would more than likely be a oneshot...I lied. Back by popular demand, and due to Nisscar pressure - ladies and gentleman, I give you Chapter Two.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.

* * *

She had been silent the whole walk back from the Sistine Chapel, Timothy had noticed, but did not want to bother her, as she seemed to be deep in thought. As they arrived back at their temporary home, the hotel, Mary crossed to the kitchenette and leaned against the counter as Timothy closed the door. She took a few moments to prepare herself for the exchange she was about to have with him about the semi-sexcapade at the Sistine.

The blonde turned herself and looked around to Timothy, she shook her head at his smile, "Timothy, you...you can't just do that." she began, shaking her head, crossing the room towards their bedroom, removing her hat and placing it on the table as she passed him, "Do you know how much you could have put your chances of Cardinal in jeopardy? I just don't understand how you could do that, I-I mean..." she swallowed and looked to him, her tone had changed, obviously flustered now, "You've built up your whole life in the Church...I-ugh!" she exhaled harshly, "But if you're going to do that...at least have the courtesy to finish it!" she turned away.

"Mary..." Timothy stood, he was somewhat amused at her outburst, although, he could see where she was coming from. It had been a bold move on his part. He moved toward her, looking at her back but froze when she turned to look back at him.

"No, Timothy, why did you even think that was okay to do that? We were at Church! How could that thought even cro-" she was cut off. Timothy had moved right up close to her and grabbed her face, planting his lips upon hers in a most passionate kiss. Mary almost melted into the kiss, she was angry, she had spent the past several weeks, since their initial triste, with building sexual frustration, and she wanted release, Timothy had been able to release each time they had made love, surely it was her time now.

Mary reciprocated the kiss, with equal passion. It was when she began to back Timothy into their bedroom and to the bed and began to remove her dress, that he pulled back from the kiss, looked to her and saw her cheeks were flushed. He moved his hands back to her cheeks, gentler now and leaned in to kiss her again, as she began to pull away his shirt from his trousers. Mary however, once she had loosened their clothing, leaned into him and pushed him down into the bed and pressed down against him. All she wanted was a release, she wanted to make love to her husband.

As she pressed against his chest, Timothy leaned up and pressed his lips to hers again, wrapping his arms around her back and rolling to the side until he found himself atop her, looking down to her body, encased in the pure white girdle and stockings. He ran his palms over her thighs, finding the clips at the tops of her stockings which his fingers made light work of unclipping before reaching for her plain panties and tugging them down her slender legs before he pushed himself into her. She was more than aroused.

With Timothy's lips upon hers and his hands occupied elsewhere, Mary leaned up with her legs around him and rolled Timothy sideways, once again straddling him. She didn't know how long she would be able to hold out before she was to climax, she had an inkling it wouldn't be long though. Looking down to Timothy almost desperately, her face screwed up with anticipation, "Timothy, please...please..." as she palmed at his chest before moving slowly.

In one swift movement, Timothy had grabbed at her petite frame, holding her body against his as he leaned up and pushed Mary back down into the mattress, laying her on her back, earning a soft moan in protest from Mary as he pulled out momentarily. Gazing down to her, Timothy placed his hands either side of her head as he lay against her, "Do you trust me?" he questioned, his accent was an alarming assault upon arousing to her ears.

As she glanced up at him, Mary nodded and whimpered a little as she ground her hips eagerly against his. Looking into his hazel eyes, Mary smiled sweetly, her desperation was overruling though, but she managed to reply, "Of course I do, I'm your wife."

"Then, please..." he smiled to her, dropping a chaste kiss upon her lips before pulling back only slightly to look into her bright blue eyes. He lowered his tone to just a whisper, "Let me make this worthwhile. I can give you what you want, my dear. If you'll only let me." he saw the minute nod she gave and took it as red to push into her, watching how her neck gracefully extended as she tilted her head back into the sheets.

Timothy pushed into Mary agonizingly slowly before pulling out equally as slowly. She looked up at him, brows knitted together as she awaited his thrusts. They didn't come, not for a while at least. Timothy continued to meet her hips sensually, moving his hands to her legs, he bent them at the knees as he felt her hands snake down his chest to rest at his stomach. He allowed his pace to quicken inside her, deep thrusts and soon enough she climaxed. She moaned out, arching up into his chest as he continued to thrust, a few more and he joined her in a place of ecstasy before he collapsed softly onto her, holding her close to him, feeling her slender body against his lean, as their hearts beat in unison.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Author's Note:_ **This is based loosely upon an idea a friend and I formed whilst watching the scene between Eunice and the Monsignor when she's packing away Sister Jude's belongings to be donated to charity, and she tells the Monsignor she'd help him get to Rome, via any means possible/necessary. So, I said it would more than likely be a oneshot...I lied. Back by popular demand, and due to Nisscar pressure.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.

* * *

After both had lay in the aftermath of their lovemaking, they had made love more than once, Timothy had kissed his wife before she drifted off into slumber and it did not take him long to follow suit. It seemed that no sooner had he fallen asleep, did he find himself jolting awake and in a rather large predicament. He wondered should he wake Mary from her obviously heavy slumber, in which she looked so angelic or he could find a solution to his problem by himself. Of course, Timothy chose the later.

The dream had been so vivid, his body had so obviously thought it had been real, and reacted to the stimulation he had envisioned in his subconscious mind. Slowly, so as not to wake Mary, Timothy peeled back the blanket, furrowing his brows as he shifted, swinging his legs around to stand. Glancing back over his shoulder, he had to assure himself it had not been a reality, but no, Mary was laying on her, her back to him and sleeping like an angel. He crept from the room, leaving the door ajar before he moved along the minute corridor to the bathroom where he took a seat on the edge of the bathtub.

Bowing his head, Timothy sighed and finally shook his head, closing his eyes. What he was about to do, he had only ever done once before, before he had taken his vows and joined his beloved Church. Staring blankly at his lap, Timothy swallowed. He took a moment before he allowed his hand to snake under the elastic waistband of his plan boxer shorts, he allowed his breath to expel slowly, yet shakily as he touched himself. He needed to find a release for all the sexual tension that had pent up inside him, just from that dream.

He frowned as his hand began to move, closing his eyes, he began to recall the dream in his mind's eye;

_He had arrived home from the Chapel as he did every evening, just after seven. Each evening, he found his wife in the kitchen preparing their dinner and sometimes dessert. This evening, however, he did not find Mary in the kitchen, there were no plates out ready on the table when he passed it by, placing his glasses, room key and his leather satchel briefcase onto it. _

_Turning to the kitchen, he saw that Mary had begun to prepare their dinner, but the utensils and pots and pans were left unattended, she was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, she was taking a shower, so he checked. The bathroom was empty, no running water, no curtain pulled across the shower, no light left on. Crossing back out into their open plan living area, Timothy checked to see if Mary had left him a note, in case she had rushed out to the market. Maybe they had been fresh out of pasta. He didn't find a note._

_It was when he pulled out a chair at the table, readying himself to sit, he heard the whimper from the bedroom. Furrowing his brows, Timothy moved slowly toward their bedroom, peeking around the door before pushing it open gently. It was there he saw his wife on the bed, in the very center. Her face was screwed up in ecstasy, her eyes clamped shut, but her mouth hovered open in that familiar 'O' shape. _

_Looking over her body, Timothy cocked his brow and swallowed. She was naked, her usually delicate, pale skin was flushed rose as she continued to draw lazy circles over her most intimate parts. He saw that her nipples were peaked as her fingers made idle work of her body. It was when she slipped her fingers inside for the first time, he wondered whether he should help her. Mary arched up, moving her free hand above her head, and let it slide under the pillow, grasping tightly at the edges._

_Timothy wanted nothing more than to help his love find her release, the one she was so obviously craving in that moment. Her body was willing, her spirit would agree. He just couldn't find the notion to move from the spot he was so now rooted to. He found it completely erotic and yet, in the same context so absolutely innocent. Mary was so simple and pure, even though the Devil -during their time at Briarcliff- had most definitely awakened something in her._

_Timothy was having a hard constructing a coherent thought. His mind was telling him he was being a voyeur, standing there while Mary allowed herself freedom to explore her sexuality and gain pleasure from it, but below his belt, told him to stay and watch her. She was his wife after all. It was nothing he had not already seen before. As he watched her writhing on the bed, dragging the pillow as the pressure was building inside of her, Timothy swallowed._

It was then Timothy had woken from his vivid dream, in a cold sweat and almost face to face with his predominant erection. As he continued to please himself, Timothy had to bite his lip to refrain from moaning out, and waking Mary. He closed his eyes once more, trying to envision what would have happened at the next point in his dream, had he not awoken from it. But, he couldn't.

Back in their bedroom, Mary rolled over onto her other side, moving her hands across the sheets to find Timothy in her sleep. She felt nothing but cold sheets, which startled her and awoke her. Leaning up on her hip, Mary raised her brows, scanning the room for Timothy, he wasn't there. She glanced to the door, noticing it was ajar. Sighing, she slipped out of bed and donned her elegant night-robe, tying it loosely at her waist before she left the room.

As Mary stepped out into the corridor, she saw light from two sources; the moonlight from the window which made her smile and turning to her left, she saw the light streaming from the bathroom. She walked along the same corridor Timothy had done minutes before her until she arrived in the door way of the bathroom. There, Mary froze. It took her a few seconds to process what she was witnessing due to her semi-consciousness after being awoken so rapidly.

She swallowed before gasped, startling Timothy who looked up at her, just in time to see the tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes and then her running away from the scene to their dining table, where she took a seat, crying into her hands. Timothy ceased his movements, he was embarrassed he'd been caught, yet he was so frustrated he did not quite release, especially after a dream of such nature. He stood with difficulty before rushing after her, somewhat painfully as his arousal pressed hard against boxers.

Looking over her form at the table, Timothy sighed, he hated when she cried. He simply couldn't bare to see her upset in anyway, but now she was in tears. He crossed the space between his place where he stood, and the table where Mary sat, wracking with each sob she drew in. Pulling out one of the chairs, Timothy groaned as he sat, crossing his leg over the other in an attempt to hide his erection. Gently, he reached across the table for her hands, pulling them from over her face, "Mary...tell me."

Sniffling, she managed to gain control over her sobbing as she looked at her husband, staring into his eyes. Mary took a moment before she spoke up, asking him what she had felt during that moment of fear, "Do I still please you...?"


	5. Chapter 5

**_Author's Note:_ **This is based loosely upon an idea a friend and I formed whilst watching the scene between Eunice and the Monsignor when she's packing away Sister Jude's belongings to be donated to charity, and she tells the Monsignor she'd help him get to Rome, via any means possible/necessary. So, I said it would more than likely be a oneshot...I lied. Back by popular demand, and due to Nisscar pressure.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.

* * *

Timothy was already in the confessional booth, confessing to his fellow brother about his bad judgement; his masturbatory experience when Mary Eunice had walked in on him. He had not judged the situation with clear conscience. Sighing, Timothy shook his head, he did not know what to do or how to handle the situation with his wife, she saw herself as a failure now due to his inconsiderate pleasure seeking.

Timothy had told his fellow brethren of his indiscretion, of the dream he had had about his wife giving herself so freely to the pleasure, that he had needed to do the same. He told the priest in the other side of the confessional booth how he had not been able to bring himself to tell Mary Eunice why he had been found in such a predicament as when she had walked into the bathroom in such a delicate situation. That surely would have made her feel a failure as both his wife and as a woman.

He wanted guidance to enable him to correct what had happened, to help Mary Eunice discover she was not at fault nor was she a failure of a wife. Sighing as the priest gave him his penance, Timothy swallowed and gestured the sign of the cross over himself, standing from the seat inside the booth once the father had left his section. Timothy stood, opened the door to the booth and stepped outside, almost mowing down a young woman in the process. It was his wife, Mary Eunice.

Looking up at her husband, the blonde blinked slightly, she was about to enter the confessional booth to ask the priest if Timothy's autonomous indiscretion had been her fault. And now here she was, glancing up into his face. Mary Eunice bit her lower lip and swallowed, "Timothy." she regarded him, stepping aside to pass him and move to the confessional booth. He stopped her however, grasping at her wrist and tugging lightly, pulling her back to him.

Timothy glanced to the priest and raised a brow, "I don't suppose father, you could give me a moment of privacy...?" he asked the older man, who looked between he and Mary Eunice before nodding and turning on his heel to leave them alone. Turning back to his bride, Timothy swallowed, pulling her inside the confessional booth with him, and allowing the door to swing shut against his back as Mary Eunice gently fell against the chair, looking up at him. He rose his hands either side of his face and rubbed his temples momentarily before he sighed, "I believe I owe you an apology, my love." Timothy began, gazing down to her.

Mary Eunice frowned and shook her head, reaching her hand up, extending one finger to press against his lips. She couldn't quite reach, so she stood, her knee grazed against him in the confined space between them. As she pressed her finger to Timothy's lips, she felt the vibration from his moan, the one he'd been trying to conceal when she'd grazed against his crotch. Mary Eunice shook her head and looked into his hazel eyes, she could see he hadn't meant to cause her any hurt with his actions, "It was just such a shock to me, to see you...doing that..." she frowned slightly before swallowing, "I was...I wasn't prepared to see you doing that, Timothy." Mary reasoned with her husband.

"I know, and I'm sorry." he flushed slightly, "I didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't." she smiled up at him, their faces mere centimeters apart, given the lack of space in the booth for the two of them to stand together, "I happened to ro-"

"I just needed to get that image from my mind." he cut her off.

Tilting her head, Mary Eunice blinked, her bright blue eyes wide as pools, "I-image...?" she questioned Timothy, her tone was soft, curious like a child.

"...Of you, Mary." he nodded, "Doing..." he inhaled, seemingly to give himself enough strength to bring himself to say it, "Bringing yourself pleasure." he finally stated.

"Timothy!" she gasped. Hearing her husband state something so plainly as that, she cringed and flushed before revolving around on the spot to get to the door of the booth, but he grabbed at her wrists and pulled her back to her place, her back against the grill. She shook her head, her blonde locks bounced against her face, "We can't talk about this here, Timothy. Not in the Vatican." she furrowed her brows.

"But, you don't understand. I have to tell you, my love. The guilt has been...wearing me thin." he announced, his hands still at her wrists, though now they moved down to take her hands. He sighed as he looked to their hands before he looked up at her again and continued, "The dream, I had a dream about you. It's been recurring for a few nights now."

"What is it...? Wh-what happened?" she frowned, "You haven't woken up any other night."

"Because last night went even further. I-I stood and watched you...how your body reacted to the pleasure." he told her, lips hovering above hers. Looking down into her eyes, Timothy continued, "I came back from the Chapel, you weren't in the kitchen. I headed to the bedroom, and you were there. Naked." he nodded, before he added, "And your hand..." he took her hand, placing his over as he snaked hers down her abdomen, pressing his fingers against hers, he caused her to press against her core, "Your hand moved down your body like so..."

Feeling her fingers pressing against herself, even through the fine material of her dress, caused her to gasp. It was improper of her to be touching herself as she was, especially in the Sistine Chapel. Mary Eunice swiftly pulled her hand away, blushing profusely and she avoided eye contact with her husband, "I don't understand. Why did you feel you couldn't tell me about this, Timothy? I'm your wife...you can tell me these things."

"I didn't think you would understand. You don't understand, still." he told her, shaking his and exhaling harshly. He was frustrated, and had been since Mary Eunice had walked in on him the night before, in such an uncompromisable situation. He could sense that Eunice was troubled, somewhat flustered and angry with him for not being able to tell her about his secret midnight rendez vous with her in his dreams.

Shaking her head once more, Mary Eunice decided it was time to leave, to head back home and begin preparing their dinner. She needed space, he needed space. The blonde bypassed her husband, squeezing past his shoulder for the door of the confessional booth, making to leave once more. In one swift movement, however, Timothy had spun around and grabbed her body, his arm wrapped around her, hands sliding over her contours and dips. His mouth peppered kisses along her neck and toward her jaw. She could feel his erection pressing against the back of her thigh, it was clear what Timothy wanted. Her.

He slipped his hand up her stomach, to her breast. There he massaged the flesh through dress and bra alike. His free hand snaked over her hips, thighs and to her bottom, kneading and circling her form. It was while he was kneading her breast, she spoke up, trying to control herself, "Timothy, let me go..." she managed before her breath hitched in her throat, her eyes rolled back in their sockets causing her lashes to flutter.

Her mind was telling her to leave, this was all wrong. They were under the eyes of their Lord. But, her heart was telling her to stay, she wanted to be the good wife. The wife who could please her husband, in love, emotionally, and sexually. Her heart was willing her to stay there, she could feel Timothy growing harder under his trousers, but her mind was screaming at her to leave him. She tried to shrug away his hands, they were like wildfire over her body, and she made for the handle one final time.

Timothy grabbed at Mary Eunice's hips, turning her to face him as he pressed his mouth feverishly to hers, backing her up against the grill. She looked up at him for the first time now since he'd told her the nature of his dream. Her eyes were wide, wanting, as her lips were parted now, in between assaults upon her mouth. She was wedged between Timothy's muscular body and the grill which separated the two booths. Standing upon the leather bound bench, her stiletto heel caused indentations in the material as she was perched upon the ledge underneath the grill with Timothy's hand upon her thighs, snaking under the hem of her dress for her panties already.

He pushed up dress towards her stomach, tugging down her simple white panties and they skittered down to her knees. As soon as they were visible, Timothy made light work of his zipper and boxer shorts, freeing his erection as he saw his wife trying to tug at her panties. He grabbed at her thigh and lifted her leg, heaving her up onto the legde once again as he pushed into her, eliciting a guttural cry from his wife as she grabbed at his collar, feeling the chill of the metal grate touching her bare skin of her behind.

Mary Eunice could sense that Timothy needed this release, she had after all, walked in on him before he could climax. And, they had not made love that morning before he left for the Chapel. He was frustrated, his arms were tense, that's how she could tell he was pre-occupied with something, right now, it was finding that much needed and much deserved release. Clinging to his collar, and tugging at it, she felt Timothy quickening his pace. His thrusts became harder inside her and faster. With each thrust, Timothy caused her leg to jerk forwards then back, as it balanced over his lower arm, his hand snaked around to her bottom, fingers biting in her flesh. As soon as he found the pace that would allow them both to climax, Mary's leg was moving in full swing.

Within a few more thrusts, she was crying out, he pressed his lips against her when he felt his own climax evolving as he held himself still, after giving one final thrust to seal his release. Mary Eunice's leg jerked so far, she kicked her purse, sending it clattering to the floor of the confessional booth, its contents spilling out around Timothy's feet. Neither of them noticed until Timothy rested his head against the grill and kissed her shoulder, panting from his exertions. Glancing down, he saw that her purse had fell and he chuckled until he saw the pink diaphragm on the floor, its lid had popped open and a circle of tin foil had escaped. A few of the pods were missing pills.

Gently, Timothy lowered her leg and he bent to scoop up the tin foil, flipping it over and examining it multiple times before he looked to Mary, holding the packet up slightly, "W-wh-what is this...?" he asked her lightly, his breath was still coming in short bursts, "What do you need these for, Mary?" he raised his brows and she just stared at him, "Why do you have these?"


	6. Chapter 6

**_Author's Note:_ **This is based loosely upon an idea a friend and I formed whilst watching the scene between Eunice and the Monsignor when she's packing away Sister Jude's belongings to be donated to charity, and she tells the Monsignor she'd help him get to Rome, via any means possible/necessary. So, I said it would more than likely be a oneshot...I lied. Back by popular demand, and due to Nisscar pressure.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.

* * *

"W-wh-what is this...? What do you need these for, Mary? Why do you have these?" he asked her, his brows raised as she just stared back at him. Mary sighed, lowering herself to the floor now, dragging her panties back up her thighs slowly, she was sore and now did not feel it appropriate to discuss this issue with Timothy. But he persisted, "Mary, what is this?"

She glanced briefly to Timothy before she shook her head, "I won't discuss this here, Timothy...at least wait until we get home. Please...?" she flicked her eyes back to him before bending to gather her things from the floor, and stash them back inside the purse that had fallen from the chair. Shaking her head once again, Mary left the confessional booth, hurriedly, wanting to leave the Chapel and get home.

"Mary..." Timothy followed her, however. He reached and grabbed at her wrist before he called to her again, tugging her back to stop her form leaving, "Mary, please. Tell me why you have these?" there was a silence. And as Timothy glanced from Mary to his left, seeing her turn also, he saw the trio of Cardinals standing there, witnessing the scene before them. It was at that moment, Timothy really realized that he was holding up the pink diaphragm of Mary's birth control pills.

She shook her head, snatched the pod from Timothy and stormed away from him, passing the group of Cardinals to leave the Chapel. As she passed them, she heard their muttering, about her, she being his wife and he almost ready to become one of the elite. Mary had the right mind to turn to the group and correct them of their lousy misconceptions between she and her husband, but she was too hurt, too embarrassed to even look at them, instead she headed home to await the arrival of Timothy.

He arrived home, it had turned dark already and Mary Eunice had waited for him the whole time. Timothy returned home, back to their rented apartment, to find it in complete darkness, nothing but the glow from the street lamps and the pearlescent glow from the moon shone through the voiles. Sighing as he dropped his keys onto the table before he reached over to turn on the standard lamp, before he then slumped himself into one of the chairs at the table, where he noticed that same circular pink diaphragm off-center. He did not need to turn his head to sense that his wife was sitting in the living area.

"Where have you been...?" she finally asked him, her tone seemed detached, uninterested.

"Walking...thinking." Timothy responded.

"About what?"

Timothy took a moment before he replied, "The future, what does it hold for us?" his question was rhetorical, and a moment of silence passed between them.

"Timothy..." Mary stood now, crossing the space between the couches and rounding the end, stopping just short of it, "I know what the Church means to you, everything..." she swallowed and looked to her feet before glancing back over to him, meeting his gaze, "You shouldn't have to make that decision..."

"Do you know what they said to me...those Cardinals?"

"...N-no?"

He shook his head, "They told me you are wayward, Mary." Timothy saw her frown and the tilt of her head, as to what he was implying, or rather what he was relaying the Cardinals were implying, "How you...how you prance around in your...fashionable dresses, the stilettoed heels..."

"Timothy..." she could feel her lower lip beginning to quiver with the words he was repeating.

"...And now, the pills..." he glared at her, "Do you know how this looks, Mary? Birth control, prevention of God's good work, natural conception..." he sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers, "I don't...how did you even get these? And from where?"

"That doesn't matter, Timothy...I want you to concentrate, on the Church. You'll get to Pope, I know you will..." she was in front of him now, her hands cupped his chin as she stared deep into his eyes, his soul almost, "You can't do that with a baby..." she gave a bittersweet smile, somewhat justifying her means for having the birth control.

"...Pope..." he muttered, glancing up at her until he found himself shaking his head slightly, "But, we're married, Mary Eunice...we should have chi-"

"Haven't you noticed, Timothy?!" she sounded exasperated, "The other Monsignors and Cardinals...their wives are ancient. I'm the youngest one..." she shook her head, turning away from her husband, "That's why they see me as flighty or...however they described me."

"Wayward." Timothy swallowed, "They had no right to talk about you, the way they did. However much I want to be Pope, I cannot."

His statement made her turn to face him, her head tilted to the side once more as she crossed her arms across herself, hugging herself tightly as she awaited what her husband had to say, "You cannot?" she questioned him.

"Not when they want me to leave you, to go to Vietnam."

"Vietnam?!" Mary Eunice's eyes pooled wide, "Whatever for?"

"They want me to counsel the soldiers, help them to keep their faith during this great war." Timothy responded, looking down into his lap.

She crossed back to him now, kneeling at his feet, and rested her palm over his knee. Any doubts she had previously felt about being in love with this man had washed away. Originally she had convinced herself that the birth control had been to prevent any mistakes that would prevent Timothy rising in the Church, but that idea had been replaced by the notion of the fact she didn't see herself as mature enough to become a mother, nor did she view herself as being madly enough in love with Timothy to spend the rest of her life as his doting wife. But, looking up into his hazel eyes, she gave an assuring smile, "You won't be going to Vietnam, my love."

Furrowing his brows, Timothy now tilted his head at her comment, "I will not?"

"No. I can see how volatile the Cardinals are here, in Rome. I know you love your Church, Timothy..." she had began stroking her thumb over his knee, grazing his thigh slightly in the process, "But, I don't want you to turn into one of them; a power hungry, cut-throat man." Mary Eunice shook her head before she softly continued, "Forgive me, Timothy, but...sometimes, our God is not worth all the bloodshed and sweat to get to his Gates of Heaven."

Timothy placed his hand over hers to cease her movements on his knee as he regarded her, not entirely sure how to soak in her speech, but he didn't have to. He could see she was being serious, she was trying. He sighed, coming to the conclusion that his wife was right. Did he really have the demeanour to be a cut-throat, a pirate of the Church? He couldn't envision it.

"Timothy..." her tone was low now, almost a whisper, "I know it's so soon...but, if-if you want us to begin a f-family..." she was struggling with talking, "I will."

"My dear, it is what I would like, but...I want, no...I need you to be happy with this decision. Only when you are ready, will we be ready together."

"And, the Church...?" she dared to ask.

"I don't want to progress, Mary. I don't want to lose you...I saw it happening."

"Saw what?"

"While I was out walking, I was gathering my thoughts, building up enough strength to return home and have this talk with you..." he nodded, now moving his hand to rest against her cheek, "They asked me to decide; wife or Church. I chose the Church...I saw what became of me, because of the race to get to the top, to rise through the ranks. You left, headed back to Framingham...and found Sister Jude."

"...Sister Jude." Mary sighed and glanced down dejectedly, "It was her vision, you and she would be married...you would rise together in the Vatican. I betrayed her, Timothy. I did some awful things to her..."

"We must go back. Back to Briarcliff."

"Back to Briarcliff...?"

"Yes, we must release Jude from the care of the state. She doesn't belong there..."

"Yes..." Mary Eunice nodded, agreeing with Timothy, "We have to get her out..." she gazed up at her husband, now realizing what they had to do.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Author's Note:_ **This is based loosely upon an idea a friend and I formed whilst watching the scene between Eunice and the Monsignor when she's packing away Sister Jude's belongings to be donated to charity, and she tells the Monsignor she'd help him get to Rome, via any means possible/necessary. So, I said it would more than likely be a oneshot...I lied. Back by popular demand, and due to Nisscar pressure.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.

* * *

Arriving on the plane finally, they were the last passengers to board, considering their apparent spontaneity at the check-in desk. They swiftly made their way to their seats, right hand side of the plane, economy class, back rear of the plane. Arriving at their assigned seats, Mary Eunice smiled to the gentleman who was sharing the row with she and Timothy. He was an elderly gentleman, who seemed frail and almost too elderly to stand. As he made to stand to allow her to pass, her kind-hearted nature reached for his hand and she smiled down to him, shaking her head.

Given that there was enough room to pass by his legs, Eunice scooted by, placing her carry-on under her seat, the window seat. As she passed the old fellow by, Timothy noted how his eyes were transfixed upon her figure, the way her hips swung before his face, the curve of her thighs in that figure hugging dress. It was when the elderly man glanced away from the young blonde, did he see she had company in Timothy. The poor man's face dropped, he had began to think his trip to the States may not be as uneventful as he had originally anticipated. Timothy swiftly excused himself and took his seat, between the elderly man and his wife.

It didn't take much longer before the aircraft was soaring above ground in the airspace above Italy, Timothy watched as Mary Eunice stared out of the window, cooing at how breathtaking the landscape was, twinkling below them in the dusky evening light. He smiled before glancing to the elderly man, who was focused upon Mary Eunice's legs, the curve of her calves. It struck something within Timothy, and after finishing his cigarette, he stubbed it out and reached for the flight blanket. Unfolding the blanket, he placed it over his wife's lap and somewhat over his own before he cleared his throat. Mary Eunice turned and beamed at Timothy, as he pressed his lips to hers hotly, his hand touching her cheek.

"Hmm..." she sighed contently, flicking her eyes between Timothy's, "I can't wait until we get home..." she allowed her head to rest against his shoulder, leaning in, she could smell his gentle musk, his natural cologne. Smiling, she allowed her eyes to close, resting them against the evening sun that was setting about Italy, inhaling his scent. Her breath tickled over his skin, the hairs at the nape of his neck begin to stand on end.

"I...I am glad that you're my wife, Mary."

Sighing contently, once again, Mary Eunice smiled against Timothy's neck, her warm breath driving him wild, almost to the brink of acute insanity. She then opened her eyes and tilted her head up to look at him, slightly concerned, "But what about the Church...?" she questioned lightly.

"That doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that we're together, and we get home." Timothy responded, feeling the blonde rest her head back into the crook of his neck before he continued, "We could perhaps start a family..." she smiled against his skin once again, and he reached for her hand, buried beneath the flight blanket. It was when he glanced beside him, to the right, he saw the elderly man had finally lost interest in the couple and fallen asleep. Timothy bypassed grabbing at his wife's hand and instead reached for her hip, resting his hand there momentarily.

Mary didn't find herself flinching at the unexpected contact, until she felt Timothy's thumb tracing lazy circles over her pelvis, grazing dangerously close to her center. She remained collected however, biting her lip when she felt his fingers join his thumb in the torment beneath the blanket. It was when she felt his fingertips slip beneath the waistband of her panties, did Mary Eunice allow her eyes to crack open slightly before almost immediately closing them again. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt her husband's fingers make the first skin-on-skin contact with her core. It had been several days since their triste in the confessional booth, and neither had deemed it appropriate to make love given the circumstances.

"Timothy..." she breathed against his neck, her lip grazing the skin there. She was silenced, his lips upon hers in a tender, yet passionate kiss. His fingers moved in slow, circular motions, coaxing her arousal. And, when he entered her, allowing two curious fingers to slip inside her for what seemed like the first time, Mary Eunice had to bite down on her lower lip, her breath hot on his neck.

Timothy began the slow motions, teasing her. The more he teased, the more aroused she became. His movements were agonisingly slow, and out of sheer frustration, Mary Eunice jerked her leg forwards, catching the back of the chair in front of her. The passenger turned, and Mary Eunice quickly apologised, Timothy did not cease his movements, and the passenger shook his head, assuming she was just tired.

It was when Timothy was sure he had Mary Eunice dangling between the frustration and sheer pleasurable bliss that he began the true movements. He was being selfless. All of this was for her benefit. He quickened his pace, fingers sliding back and forth with ease until he felt her body reacting to the pleasure he was inflicting upon her. Her mouth opened in that familiar O as she bucked against his palm, breath coming in short bursts against his neck, as she remained silent through her orgasm.

Holding his fingers inside her, Timothy leaned down to kiss her lips. Her lips were parted as he leaned in, allowing his mouth to envelop hers completely. When she parted from the kiss, tilting her head back slightly, Mary Eunice began to slide her hand closer to his body, ready to reciprocate somewhat demurely, but he stopped her, pushing his fingers within her once again.

The moment the plane landed, some hours later, Mary Eunice made her way to the ladies' room to freshen up. Timothy had kept her on the brink of insanity for almost the entirety of the journey. She was uncomfortable and tired and just needed a few moments to gather her thoughts about the journey between Italy and the United States. Stepping into the bathroom, the blonde gently sighed, moving toward the sinks and mirrors as she placed her carry-on onto the counter, glancing inside and seeing the panties she had removed during the flight. They had rubbed against her overly-sensitive core and made her uncomfortable while Timothy continued to bring round upon round of pleasure.

Digging through her purse for her cosmetic bag, Mary Eunice felt arms around her waist. Biting her lip, she glanced up and through the mirror, seeing Timothy behind her, she smiled to him slightly. No words were exchanged, but it was apparent what he wanted. Especially when he pressed his front against her back, she could feel he was already hard.

Turning her in his arms, their lips pressed together feverishly. Timothy wasted no time in heaving his wife up onto the counter, shoving her purse backwards after she had made light work of his belt and buckle. He pushed her dress to her lip, grasping at her thighs and pulling her closer to him. In almost one swift movement, Timothy entered her. It was a lustful coupling, harsh and aggressive. Both were frustrated as they had not made love in days, but now was their time. And time was not something they had on their side.

It did not take them long before bodies began reacting, sweating, flushing. Mary Eunice could feel the waves of her climax ebbing closer, and a few more thrusts, she clung onto Timothy, now able to moan out. He continued to thrust into her, until he couldn't no more, her climax was so powerful, clenching at his body, coaxing his own pleasure. He gripped at her hip as his other hand snaked up her back, holding her body close to him as she flopped against him, truly spent.

He helped her down from the counter and quickly washed up, zipping his trousers back up, forgoing his belt. Glancing to Mary, he smirked slightly at how flustered she was; fumbling to pack in the contents of her carry-on and cosmetics back into the purse. He chuckled and steadied her as she donned the pre-disposed panties once again. Grasping her hand, he pulled her to the door, ready to exit the bathroom. Kissing her lips tenderly, Timothy unlocked the bathroom door, and they came face to face with some frustrated patrons and beyond them, the press.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Author's Note:_ **This is based loosely upon an idea a friend and I formed whilst watching the scene between Eunice and the Monsignor when she's packing away Sister Jude's belongings to be donated to charity, and she tells the Monsignor she'd help him get to Rome, via any means possible/necessary. So, I said it would more than likely be a oneshot...I lied. Back by popular demand, and due to Nisscar pressure.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, everything belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and the FX network.

* * *

Stepping out of the car and rushing around to the passenger side, Timothy shielded his face from the flashbulbs and intrepid reporters trying to get stories from he and Mary Eunice as they moved from the car to the front steps of Briarcliff Manor. The red brick building, still as similar as the day they had fled together. Taking his wife's hand, Timothy pulled her away from the biting grip the reporters were so eager to hold upon them; grill them, interrogate them, photograph them. He knew why they were there, stalking he and Mary Eunice. It was regarding what had happened before the couple had left Rome to return to Briarcliff.

"Monsignor! Monsignor Howard!" came the babble of voices from behind the couple.

Timothy and Mary climbed the steps outside the building, heading for the shelter of the lobby, where they were sure to have one of the old familiar faces to greet them. Pushing open the double doors, Timothy stepped aside to allow his wife inside the building first, casting a fleeting glance over his shoulder to the gaggle of reporters awaiting on comments from he or Eunice, before he followed her inside and sighed harshly.

Turning to her husband, Mary took both his hands in her own and tilted her head gently, "Timothy, it'll be fine. Please, don't worry..." she smiled to him, reassuringly before leaning in to press her lips chastely to his, "Come, we should find Jude..." she nodded, dropping one of his hands and turning to head to the common room before she stopped, frowning.

"Wh-what is it...?" Timothy questioned her softly before he glanced in the general direction she was staring.

"E-everything's changed here. When we left, we...the State took over. The people here..." Mary bowed her head and sighed, averting her eyes from the scene so publicly displayed: the patients, as she so-once adequately stated 'humping like bunnies' in plain sight of other patients and orderlies, and yet not one being was doing anything to prevent or cease its occurrence.

Timothy grimaced before he cleared his throat and shook his head, clenching tightly to Mary's hand in his own, as he stepped forward to head into the common room, a place where he and as she was previously known; Sister Mary Eunice had discussed the future of Briarcliff, their first full exchange without Sister Jude present. As he pushed open the double doors, the din from inside the long, ill-illuminated hall grew to a raucous roar. Swallowing, he stepped inside and glanced around, feeling Mary Eunice pressing against his side.

"Do you see her...?" Mary's voice managed to reach over the bustle, though she did not look up at her husband. She was transfixed on one particular patient. She seemed familiar, but Mary Eunice was certain she had never saw this woman before. It was when the woman turned her gaze, puffing out a plume of tar-ish smoke, smirking to the blonde did Mary Eunice turn her focus to Timothy once more. He was also staring at the mystery woman as she made her way to them.

The skully convict made her way over, sauntering, with a casual swagger, followed closely by her two heavies. The woman, raven haired, hair pulled back into clip took a long drag of her no-filter cigarette before looking over the two. First she raked her eyes over Timothy, even a man was seemingly appetizing to her after so long before she turned her focus on the slim, girl-like blonde. The convict puffed out a shot of smoke before she narrowed her hazy blue eyes, "You comin' to check-in, sweetheart...?" she leaned in, regarding Mary Eunice as she tried to get a glimpse down the front of her dress as she flicked the thickening ash onto the floor in front of Timothy.

"Of course not..." Timothy stepped protectively in front of his wife, standing tall as he glared down the woman preying on his young bride. He watched as she smirked, glancing over her shoulder to her heavies. The woman nodded once before her sidekicks stepped away, she turned back, glared at Timothy and winked to Mary Eunice, before she too retreated among the insane civilization of Briarcliff Manor's inmates.

Timothy felt Mary Eunice's hand in his once again, and he turned to her, swallowing, "Did you...did she seem familiar to you, Timothy?" she asked him gently, looking up into his face, her eyes wide. The blonde frowned and sighed shakily, "I'm certain I've seen her before..."

"Unfortunately, yes...that woman. I can't be sure of it, but the Angel of Death...she saved me when Leigh Emerson nailed me to the cross in the chapel here." Timothy responded, glancing down to his hands, the scarring still visible. He turned his attention to Mary Eunice, he could see she was troubled. Timothy cleared his throat gently before he glanced momentarily back to the black haired woman, who was stil watching them before glancing back to his wife, "Jude's not here, we should find her." Timothy suggested, placing his hand on the small of Mary's back and leading her from the prying eyes of Laverne DiFazio.

As the two stepped out into the corridor once again, Mary Eunice turned up to Timothy and casually stated, "I met her. She had been summoned by Miles, that ex-he was military. I saw her give him the Kiss..." she swallowed and sighed, listening to her heels clacking on the tiled flooring before reaching the metal staircase, Jude's Stairway To Heaven. The blonde started the climb but stopped halfway, turning to Timothy, "I asked her to release me...I was so close, but It wouldn't let her..."

"Please, don't focus upon the bad, dear one. We're here...we must find Jude, and release her from the custody of the State." Timothy reminded Mary.

"Yes, she doesn't belong here."

Climbing the spiralling staircase, the couple finally touched base on the third floor, the women's ward. Moving around the balcony, the two found their way into the familiar corridors. Doors were open, and cells were occupied, three even four inmates to one cell. Mary Eunice made her way along one side of the corridor, while Timothy searched the opposite.

"She's here! Timothy, she's here!" Mary Eunice called out, stepping back out of the cell and calling along the corridor to her husband. The blonde blinked and shook her head, sliding past the unwashed inmates to get to Jude who was seemingly so shrunken in the corner, her hair matted and wild. Mary Eunice frowned as she looked over what Jude had become and as she reached out to touch her face, Timothy stepped into the cell, just watching. He sighed as she saw the recognition in Jude's eyes as she looked to the young blonde touching her cheek and he furrowed his brows gently as he listened to Mary speak up, "Oh, Jude. What have they done to you...? I'm so sorry."

It was when Mary Eunice continued, did Timothy need a double take before he stared, listening with his mouth gaping open in disbelief as his wife held Jude's face inches from hers, staring into the older woman's eyes to make her understand: "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me...mother."


End file.
